As If Mingled Throughout our Air Yet Distant, Distant, Distant
Elusive as pale pulsing ghosts that hide
In Galliano robes, stars’ glamour shifts
From seeming to enchantment. Like a bride
Suspended in a galaxy, glow lifts
And levitates. The stars and starlets shine
Above, beyond us. Not just on the screen
But on the internet, that giant shrine
That covers all the world, the stars are seen
In gloss just everywhere, remain detached
And distant always. Held in mystery
By wand-like Hollywood these ghosts are hatched
As if from Leda’s eggs. The history
Of stars is brushed by studios. They write
Distorted scripts of wraiths in spectral light.
~ Phillip Whidden